10. Change of Plans

Sydney must have tensed visibly at the sight of him, because Winter moved instinctively closer, his body turned protectively toward hers. When she looked up at him, she saw his gaze fixed on the young man, as if ready for him to attack. Again, she felt that uneasy flutter in her stomach. No partner had ever protected her like this—usually, they didn't even work in the same physical location. His nearness felt strange.

"A friend of yours?" Gavi said, lifting a questioning eyebrow at the newcomer before looking at Winter. "I wasn't expecting company."

Before Winter could answer, Tems gave them a wide, disarming smile and spread his arms.

"Mr. Young!" he exclaimed, giving him a deep bow of his head. "I'm terribly sorry for the intrusion. Unfortunately, one of your passcodes here leaked, and a cluster of fans have been using it to access unauthorized floors. We've already switched the codes for the rooms, but I'm doing a routine check of your suite to make sure everything is properly updated."

A good impromptu story, Sydney thought. Her fists had clenched so hard at her sides that her nails were about to draw blood against her palms. He smiled at her, but in his eyes, she could see the recognition. What the hell was he doing here?

"This isn't the first time this has happened to us," Winter said, and Sydney looked sharply at him.

Tems nodded. "Is that so, Mr. Young?"

A good follow-up,Sydney thought, and felt a twinge of admiration for Winter. Sauda was right about his lying skills.

"A tour stop in Nashville," Winter said with a sigh as he sat down, as if this was all part of the job. "We had all our hotel details exposed by a staff member. My manager spent the better part of a day figuring out an entirely new routine for how to get us in and out." He looked at Tems. "Are we going to need to do that here?"

"We'll need to discuss it, yes," Tems replied. "I apologize for this inconvenience. It hasn't happened here before. Then again, this is the first time we've had you as a guest, Mr. Young."

Sydney had to force herself not to roll her eyes at Tems's buttery voice.

This was the hint for Gavi to leave the room, and when Sydney looked at her, the girl seemed ready.

"How long is this going to take?" Gavi said as she folded her arms.

"Many apologies for the inconvenience, Ms. Ginsburg," Tems said with a bow of his head. "We should be done in an hour, and the room will be ready for you to settle in. May I suggest the shops downstairs or a session by the rooftop pool? They have been closed to outside visitors for the duration of your stay."

"I'll figure it out myself," Gavi said, giving him a winsome smile. She patted Winter sympathetically on the arm. "Have fun figuring this mess out. I need to go buy a local SIM card anyway. Want one?"

Winter shook his head. "No, I'm good. Thanks, though."

"Then I'll catch up with you later at dinner."

Winter nodded. She leaned forward to give him a kiss on the cheek, and he tensed, but didn't stop her. Then she turned on her heel and headed out of the room. The door shut behind her with a click.

As soon as she left, Tems's polite subservience vanished, and he walked over to sit down in a chair across from the couch. "Well," he said, giving Winter a sly grin. "You clearly have some skills in the improvisation department. Commendable."

Winter frowned. "And I'm guessing you're not hotel staff," he answered.

"What a smart one," Tems said. "And I'm guessing you didn't take your girlfriend's offer because your phone's a Panacea one. Or do they even bother equipping pseudo-agents?"

Sydney came over to stand beside Winter. She waved a disgusted hand. "This is Tems Bourton," she told him. "The Arsonist."

Winter's eyes went to Tems. "So it's you."

"A pleasure." Tems unfolded his arms, put his hands in his pockets, and gave Sydney a wink. "You look good, Syd."

"What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded.

Tems shrugged, his eyes staying on her. "I thought you knew."

"Did Niall send you here? Because we certainly weren't expecting you."

"Ah, is our former mentor joining us?" He nodded at the door. "Did he come with you?"

"He's with the CIA." Sydney frowned. "Shall I tell him to come see you himself so he can give you a proper piece of his mind?"

Tems shook his head. "I think Niall has given me enough lectures for a lifetime. We can hold off on one more."

"What happened during our original rendezvous?" She glanced around the room. "Why'd you go dark?"

"The government here is watching me." He glanced at the windows. "It was hard enough getting up here unnoticed. Their security has been wiretapping me for two weeks now."

Perhaps it was the very real threat on her life that had just happened—perhaps it was the long flight—but everything felt surreal now, like she was swimming through a dream. "Why? For what?" she asked.

"It's a long story."

"Well, we flew halfway around the world to hear it. And you're supposed to meet us at the gala, not here. How did you even get in?"

He grinned slyly at the expression on her face, then shook his head in regret. "Sauda shouldn't have sent you."

"Why not?" she snapped.

"Oh, come on. I bet you had the same thought when she debriefed you. Sauda probably chose you because she thinks I've got a thing for you." He tilted his head in that infuriatingly mocking way she remembered so well. "Maybe I do."

Beside her, Winter's posture had turned to stone.

Tems pushed himself casually up from the chair and wandered over to the suite's bar, where he began pushing buttons on the espresso machine. "Anyone want a coffee?" he asked.

Winter frowned at him. "I'm sorry, I must have thought that this was my room."

"Thank you, by the way, for letting me borrow your bar," Tems answered over his shoulder. "You might notice a few things missing." He pulled down two mugs, then swapped them out for martini glasses. "Actually, after the conversation we're about to have, you may need something stronger. Please. Have a seat."

As if he owned the whole damn place.Winter shot Sydney a look, and Sydney gave him a helpless shrug. Then she settled onto a spot at one end of the couch while Winter took a seat at the other end.

"Why are you here?" Sydney asked again. "Why now?"

"That happy to see me, are you?" Tems replied. "Maybe I should have joined you earlier at the airport—although I did hear that turned a little messy."

Even though Winter was sitting on the opposite end of the couch, Sydney could feel the subtle shift of the couch's fabric as he draped one leg over the other and glared at Tems in annoyance. She scowled at Tems and started to snap back—but he filled a cocktail shaker, and for a few seconds, the clacking ice drowned everything out.

When it stopped, Tems came back into the living room and handed each of them a glass, garnished with an olive. "I know we were supposed to meet at the gala," he said, "but I didn't think that would be enough time for us to go over everything. So here I am."

"To go over what? Does anyone else know about this?"

He went back for his own mug, then settled on the couch facing them. "Nope," he answered. "Just the three of us." He nodded at Winter. "And I'd really prefer if we kept it that way."

Sydney frowned. "Why haven't you told Sauda and Niall you're meeting us?"

"Because the entire reason you've been sent to Singapore," he said with a nod, "is to escort me home. Correct?"

She nodded. "To extract you safely."

At that, Tems gave a dry laugh. "I tell Niall I need more time, and he sends an associate to drag me back. Typical."

"Agent," Sydney corrected him shortly.

"Oh, a promotion? Well, a big congratulations, then." He glanced at Winter. "And what about a proper introduction to your new friend?"

"Don't think I need one," Winter answered.

Tems gave him a dismissive once-over, refusing to talk to him directly. "Are we in the business of hiring pop stars now?"

"Booming business, apparently," Winter replied coldly.

"Winter has a personal invite to the prime minister's gala," Sydney said.

"Ah, I see. He's just your golden ticket." Tems eyed him up and down.

"Lose something?" Winter offered, following his gaze.

"A little respect, yes," Tems replied.

"Leave him alone," Sydney said.

He smiled at her. "So protective of your new partner. I don't remember you being this nice to me."

"Hate to pierce your heart, but you were never my partner."

"What a shame." Tems took a sip of his drink. "Well, I'm not going anywhere."

"I don't think Niall said it was your choice, to be honest."

He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "I'm not going anywhere," he repeated, "and I'm going to tell you why."

"Why, then?"

"What we knew about the assassination plot against President Rosen is no longer accurate. The rebel group isn't acting alone. They're being sponsored by someone higher."

At that, Sydney blinked. "How do you know?"

"The rebel suspect I was trailing for months was killed recently in an ambush. But a parcel he was meant to deliver still somehow went through, and I suspect that it went through successfully because it was given to a very specific patron."

"Who?"

"Ethan Seah, Minister for Foreign Affairs. The same person seated next to President Rosen on the gala's seating chart."

A shiver traveled down Sydney's spine at his words, and she paled. "The suspect is in Singapore's own government?" she said.

"Wait—" Winter interjected. "Singapore is sponsoring the murder of the US president?"

Tems nodded. "Yes, although I doubt the entire government is aware of it. What I need is evidence, but that's a bit difficult when I'm being watched all the time." He shook his head. "You see why I can't leave. If I go now, my trail goes cold, and we leave President Rosen vulnerable to the assassination at the gala."

"So what do you want from us? To report it for you?"

Tems shook his head. "I need you to disobey Sauda and Niall."

"What?"

"Help me stop the assassination at the gala."

Sydney's heart began to beat quicker. "Sauda warned us to steer clear of it."

Tems's voice had turned low and urgent now. "I can't just call for the arrest of one of Singapore's cabinet members without giving a good reason. I need to hand the CIA something that solidly points to Mr. Seah before the gala. And that means I need someone who can get proof—a recording—anything—that can prove to the CIA that Mr. Seah is the culprit. If we can do that, the CIA can ensure that Rosen is absent from the gala at the last moment, and we can have Seah arrested there instead."

"Why can't we tell Sauda and Niall?" Winter asked. "Niall's here with the CIA."

"Because you know what he'll say. Niall wants the CIA to handle it and drag me home because my cover will be compromised."

"And why is that bad?" Winter pressed.

"Because I'm not about to put Rosen's life in the CIA's hands. They don't know how precarious the situation is."

"Stopping the assassination isn't our mission, Tems," Sydney said.

He gave her an arch look. "Technically, that's true," he replied. "But I know you'll do it anyway."

His look annoyed her. Tems had a knack for getting her in trouble with Panacea—not that she needed the help. Sauda and Niall still hadn't forgiven her and Winter yet for their transgressions on their last mission.

"Niall's meeting me tomorrow morning," Sydney said. "If I keep you a secret from him, I'm breaking my oath for this mission. For you."

Tems grinned. "So do me a favor, sweetheart. For old time's sake?"

A memory bloomed in her mind, some long dormant seed opening to reveal a winter day in Stockholm as she waited in a lonely little hotel that already had its lamps lit because it was dark at two in the afternoon. She could still remember looking down from the balcony at the stray pedestrians, wondering which one would be the asset she'd been assigned to meet, squinting occasionally at the dark sky roiling with the first hints of a snowstorm. She could still hear the clack of wet boots against the wooden floor of her room as he came in, could still see him shaking snow from his coat, one of her keycards in his hand.

Do me a favor, sweetheart,he'd said as he hung his hat on the back of the door. And turn up the heat a bit in this room. Aren't you freezing?

She recalled how she gave him the intel Panacea had sent her to collect, crucial details on an arms ring stationed in the city, how they'd lingered a little longer than they needed to over plates of steak and preserved fish in the restaurant. How he'd handed over a package for her in his hotel room—only for both of them to be snowed in together by the onset of the snowstorm.

And then… well, they had to find some way of passing the time together. The third morning of their tryst, Sydney had woken up to an empty bed and a scrawled note from Tems, signed with his dagger through a heart.

Sorry, sweetheart. Just business.

Five minutes later, she'd discovered her missing passport.

Sydney felt her face flush at the memory, even though she couldn't tell if it was because she recalled what Tems did or because Winter was right here, witnessing this entire exchange. At least he couldn't see into her mind.

"You're asking me to risk my job," she said in a low voice.

"Is that all? We risk our jobs on the daily."

"You know what I mean. I've dealt with enough shit from you."

"And yet you're not refusing, are you?"

Niall was going to kill them for this. She sighed inwardly, wondering if she would ever get a mission where everything went according to plan. She pictured Niall sitting across from her tonight, grumpy eyes under thick brows, and imagined lying to him about Tems's plans. It made her wince.

"Look, I understand what I'm asking," Tems added. "I know you, and I know what our job is like. I wouldn't do it if the president of the United States wasn't at risk. You understand what the stakes are here."

"Of course I understand," she snapped. "I just don't know if what you're asking will help."

Tems lowered his voice. "I'm going to do it either way. But I'll have a better shot if you're with me." For the first time since they arrived, he looked grim. "And we both know we make a good team, sweetheart."

Sydney tightened her lips. He was right—to a certain extent. She'd admired his diligence during training, even the numerous rogue ideas he'd come up with to pass certain assignments. They had traded banter during their graduation ceremony, then gotten along easily in Stockholm, could speak to each other in the clipped kind of language that secret agents shared which no one else could understand.

Sauda would kill them. But the orders were to bring Tems back alive, regardless of what it might do to his mission.

They didn't say what to do if Tems refused to return, because none of them had expected it to be an issue. Who would have assumed that he might not want to escape at all? What was she supposed to do—drug him and drag him unconscious onto a plane?

The thought was vaguely satisfying. But if she stayed and helped him, then she and Winter could fulfill their own duty. Tems would be back on a plane with them right after the gala, as originally proposed, and the president would be safe.

"And you?" Tems shifted his attention to Winter and pretended not to notice his mood. "I suppose I should ask your opinion, out of common courtesy. Are you in?"

Sydney looked at Winter. He would do it, she knew. But putting him at the center of the plot at the gala was different from merely using him to just get into the venue. Panacea had nearly gotten him killed in London. What if something happened to him here?

"This isn't what you signed up for," she said to Winter.

His eyes went to Tems, and the two held each other's gaze, neither backing down.

"I signed up to be your partner," Winter replied. "That's not changing, as far as I can tell."

Tems glanced at him with a look of vague dismissal. "Good," he said, a condescending lilt to his voice. "Because it looks like your golden ticket might come in handy again."

Winter narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"You've got your own box reserved for your people at the Warcross concert, right?"

"Always."

Tems nodded. "Then extend invitations to the entire Singaporean cabinet. It should go over well—I heard that the CEO has already invited the prime minister and the president. I'm sure Emika Chen would approve the cabinet. Tell her it's a sign of your gratitude to the government for your visit. Can you do that in time for tomorrow night?"

Winter was quiet before he nodded.

Tems looked back at Sydney. "Will you be in that box during the concert?"

Sydney sighed and rubbed her temples. This mission had gone wildly off the rails within their first hour of arrival. "Yes," she replied. "Other security will be scattered down with the crowd." She glanced at Winter. "But the box will have the best views of the scene from above. If I'm stationed there as your personal bodyguard, I can keep a better eye on you."

"What if we come out empty-handed?" Winter said.

"Then we've failed," Tems said simply, "and the president dies. But no pressure."

Winter looked at Sydney, and she wanted to bury her face in her hands. This was going to be even worse than London.

Tems's grave expression wavered at their silence, and a wicked smile spread across his face. "Is that you both agreeing?"

Sydney glared at him. "This would be so much easier if it wasn't you," she replied.

"As in, you're more personally invested because of me?" Tems asked.

"As in, I dislike you enough that I'm considering sacrificing the security of the entire world just to drag you home, instead of going through with your absurd plan."

"Well," he said, taking another sip of his drink. "The world's stability hangs on it, so take your time."

Some people never changed. Sydney glared at him, knowing full well what her answer would be. He knew it, too, and the satisfaction on his face was almost more than she could bear.

We both know we make a good team, sweetheart.

"Fine," she said through gritted teeth.

"Fine," Winter echoed, his voice just as tight.

"Fine," Tems said with a smile. He straightened in his seat and clapped his hands together, as if they'd just had the most congenial conversation. "Our fun begins tomorrow."